


Ketamin Blue

by Vivian



Series: Collapse [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drug Use, M/M, Masturbation, Poe is his room mate, Prostitute Kylo, Self Harm, Serial Killer Hux, Sexual Content, general fucked-up-ness, sin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 16:58:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6864844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivian/pseuds/Vivian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“How was he?” Poe asks.<br/>Kylo thinks back. The car. The flat. Minutely clean. And the man.<br/>Hux.<br/>He’s repeated the name under his breath, has had it on his lips when he’s fucked into the tight of his own fist, has spelled it on his stomach with his drying come.<br/>“Like a scalpel,” Kylo says it slowly, aggressively, and wishes he’d be there again. </p><p><b>or:</b> Kylo contemplates his encounter with Hux.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ketamin Blue

It’s 9am and Kylo lies on Poe’s couch, smoking a joint. Their two ashtrays are brimming over. Wine stains on the table. Half a carton of wine open. Kylo takes a long drag, holds the smoke in his lungs and sits up. He lets the smoke curl from his lips, then takes one of the cups on the table and fills it with more wine.

“You have to stop buying this shit,” Kylo says.

Poe is rummaging in the kitchen, looking for whatever. Now, he peeks his head out of the door.

“It’s cheap,” he says.

“Wouldn’t your mother disown you if she knew you drank that piss?”

“Really, Kylo.” Poe raises his eyebrows, throws another glance into the kitchen and then saunters over.

“Gimme some of that.”

Kylo passes him the joint. Poe shoves Kylo’s legs to the side to sit down next to him. While Poe smokes, Kylo gulps down more wine. He hasn’t slept yet and despite the joint he doesn’t feel like coming down. He drums his fingers against the edge of the table. Wiggles his knee. Taps his foot.

“Stop that.”

“Nuh-uh.”

Poe puts a hand on Kylo’s knee to keep it from moving and gives Kylo that look. Kylo snorts and picks the joint from Poe’s fingers.

“You wanna do some keta?” Kylo asks, then sucks on the joint.

“You have some?”

“Mhm.”

Poe sighs.

“Come on. Don’t be an ass. I offered,” Kylo grits out.

“Alright. Alright. Sharing is caring.”

“Exactly.”

Kylo slips a small plastic bag from his trouser pockets and hands it over to Poe. He takes the last drag from the joint before the filtre burns, then stomps it out in the overflowing ashtray. Meanwhile Poe has sprinkled some of the white powder onto his iphone. Now he shapes two neat lines with his credit card. Kylo procures a crinkled hundred euro bill from his trousers and rolls it. Then he leans over the table and snorts the first line. It burns, but he doesn’t care. Gives the bill to Poe. Poe does his line and hands the bill back. They both lean against the couch.

“Shit,” Poe mutters.

“Yeah.”

The hit is like getting drunk in a matter of seconds, except one can still think clearly. Differently. Sometimes it alters space. Then he’s in one room but it’s not one room, and reality is shifting.

“I met this guy,” Kylo says. “He fucked me a month ago.”

“OK.”

“I left him my number. He hasn’t called.”

Kylo turns his head towards Poe. Poe looks at him, dark eyes, his jawline is so sharp Kylo could cut himself on it. He sorta wants to. He also wants to punch Poe in the face and break his nose. He reaches out. Poe doesn’t stop him.

“He was really nice,” Kylo says and drags his fingers over Poe’s jaw, then his right cheek. The stubble catches against his fingers. Poe bites his lip. Kylo hates when he does that. He lets his hand drop.

“How was he?” Poe asks.

Kylo thinks back. The car. The flat. Minutely clean. And the man.

Hux.

He’s repeated the name under his breath, has had it on his lips when he’s fucked into the tight of his own fist, has spelled it on his stomach with his drying come.

“Like a scalpel,” Kylo says it slowly, aggressively, and wishes he’d be there again. Those hands upon him. Cold. Calculating. _Controlling_. Kylo sucks in a harsh breath, feels himself getting hard in his trousers. He palms himself, draws the tip of his tongue over his teeth until it cuts. Poe still looks at him. Kylo returns the stare. Heat uncoils in his stomach.

“Was he the one who cut you?” Poe asks and his gaze narrows to Kylo’s neck, where Hux’s knife had opened his skin.

“Yeah,” Kylo says. It comes out breathy.

Poe doesn’t answer, instead he glances at Kylo’s hand, lying over his dick. Then he looks up again.

“Cigarette?” Poe asks. Kylo nods. Poe takes out a crumpled pack, tears away more of the cellophane and then gives a cigarette to Kylo and slips another between his lips. Kylo leans forward. Poe lights their cigarettes. Kylo takes a deep drag. Nicotine rushes through his veins. His heart is beating fast. Too much speed last night. Whatever. He’s still hard. He sucks on his cigarette, opens his trousers and shoves his hand inside. He isn’t wearing underwear. His dick stretches against the fabric of his jeans. Now, Poe picks up the cup and pours himself some wine, too. He sips it and leans back, cigarette hanging from his lips. Kylo holds his own with his free hand while the other wraps around his cock. He gives it a slow pull, tipping his head back. He remembers Hux taking away his cigarette and putting it out with his shiny leather shoes. Kylo imagines dragging his tongue over them. Imagines Hux staring down on him, revolted.

“So he was into knife play?” Poe asks, his lips curving upward a fraction.

“No,” Kylo answers. Hux didn’t play. Kylo moves his hand faster over his dick.

Poe looks at him, brows drawn together. Kylo doesn’t care. That knife at his neck never wavered. Hux inside him, fucking him clinically. None’s fucked him like that before. Wasn’t even that good, too clean, no passion. And yet. Hux holding that knife, about to slit his throat. Kylo shudders, juts his hips upward into his fist. Hux’s disgust nearly tangible.

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” Kylo presses out and comes all over his hand. He pulls it out and wipes his come onto his jeans, fingers sticky. The bitter, acrid-salty scent of semen.

“Shit,” Kylo snarls.

Poe only snorts, raking a hand through his hair.

“How about you clean yourself up, man,” Poe says.

In one fell swoop, Kylo stands. His lips twitch. He makes for the bathroom.

“Fuck you,” he says over his shoulder.

“I thought we established we don’t, anymore.”

“Oh, piss off,” Kylo growls and bangs the door shut behind him when he enters the bathroom.

He leans against the door, breathes heavily. The image of Hux’s cold eyes burns behind his eyelids.

Kylo opens the cabinet behind the mirror over the wash basin, rummages through it until he finds Poe’s razorblades. With trembling hands he takes one. He sets it against his neck. Then he pushes, ever so slightly and reopens the cut.

His lips form a single word.

**Author's Note:**

> Questioning my life choices, but here we are, all swimming on this lake of fire in hell. Hail horrors, hail.  
> More to come. Tell me what you think!
> 
> Cross-posted on my [kylux tumblr](http://kyluxxury.tumblr.com/post/144422739503/serial-killer-prostitute-au-pt-2).


End file.
